


This God Did Shake

by Caprichoso



Series: The Sufferance of Our Souls [1]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Community: rotg_kink, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-26 11:25:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/650020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caprichoso/pseuds/Caprichoso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ROTG Kink prompt fill: Dying Wish. "Pitch wants to do one more thing before he dies. Jack doesn't mind making that wish come true."</p>
            </blockquote>





	This God Did Shake

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into ROTG smut, inspired by one of the lovely prompts at the ROTG Kink Meme. Oh, the boundless creativity of these folks...
> 
> The title and one line of dialogue are taken from Julius Caesar.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians or anything related to it, however much I might covet that sweatshirt.

The path Jack wove through the trees was meandering, aimless. It was the height of winter, and he was feeling stronger than ever. Of course, his widespread and ever-growing popularity among the world's children was more than a little help in that regard.

For once in his existence, Jack Frost was known, wanted,  _needed_.

It felt good.

As he swept around a rock outcropping, he pulled up short, staff at the ready to ward off the beast he encountered.

Floating before him, hooves stamping the air and mane shaking violently, was a Nightmare.

"Stay back, you!" he snarled, shepherd's crook already beginning to glow with energy.

Remaining in place, the dark horse extended its neck and made chewing motions. The gesture was familiar to Jack from his time as a human: it was a sign of submission and nonaggression.

The glow disappeared from Jack's staff, but he did not relax. "You keep coming to me, but my answer is still no.  _Nothing_  will change my mind on this."

A portion of the nightmare's flank dissolved and reappeared as a familiar figure, ominous despite being made of mere sand.

"I told you, no! Whatever Pitch wants from me, he's not going to get it."

The figure went supine, shuddered for a minute, then dissipated. The scene repeated itself, over and over again, until Jack finally understood.

"He's dying." His words were flat, toneless, though whether from surprise or indifference, he couldn't say.

The Nightmare nodded, and a black hand reached out from its shoulder, beckoning him.

Gritting his teeth, Jack swiped at the hand, which recoiled with a shriek as his staff made contact. 

"No! I don't care if he's dying or if this is just one of his tricks. I'm not going to come with you. You can stop asking; it's never going to happen."

Just as Jack was about to turn away, a single golden tear formed the Nightmare's yellow eye, falling to burst into nothing on the ice below.

Jack was transfixed. He knew enough about the nature of the sand that formed the Nightmares to know that while they were almost wholly corrupted, they had a tiny bit of purity left in them, a remnant of the Sandman's golden magic that shone through. It was the one part of them Pitch could never control, the reason they had been able to mutiny against him. And that pure essence had just shed a tear.

For Pitch.

And so it was that Jack Frost, who despised all that Pitch Black embodied, found himself following a Nightmare to the evil spirit's lair.

The cavern was, at its core, the same as it had always been, but for one key difference. Its location had not changed, nor had the air of gloom around it diminished, but the Nightmare King's domain had shrunk drastically as his power had waned. Where there once had stood miles upon miles of catacombs, there was now a cave, small and simple.  
  
Eyes adjusting rapidly to the semi-dark, Jack made out the outline of a cot at the back of the cave, inhabited by an emaciated form covered only by a blanket. Steeling his nerves, he approached Pitch's bedside.  
  
"Jack." No longer did his name spoken by those lips send a shiver down his spine; the oil had fled from Pitch's voice, leaving behind nothing but a weak rasp. The gray man tried to prop himself up on an elbow and failed, falling back onto his cot with a grimace.  
  
"So you really are dying," Jack said, trying to keep his tone level.  
  
Pitch's chuckle failed to echo around the cavern as it should have; everything about this situation was wrong. "I'm afraid so, dear boy. No one's afraid of the dark these days, thanks to you and the other Guardians. I've outlived my usefulness, but not for much longer. Soon you'll have no one left to hate in this world."  
  
Shaking his head, Jack tried to come up with a retort, but all he could think about was how frail Pitch looked on that bed.  
  
A smirk crossed Pitch's face, rueful and playful at the same time. "Ah, yes, I must be quite the sight; the once-great Nightmare King reduced to this state. 'And that same eye whose bend doth awe the world did lose his lustre.'"  
  
The reference was enough to draw a snort from Jack. "Really? You brought me here so you could have an audience as you quote Shakespeare on your deathbed?"  
  
Pitch's eyes clouded over, and he looked away. "No, Jack. I... It's silly, really, but I didn't summon you here, per se. I merely wished with whatever's left of my heart. It would seem that my dreams took it upon themselves to make the wish come true... or at least, they did their part."  
  
"Their part? What was this wish?"  
  
A darker shade of gray rose to Pitch's cheeks, and Jack realized with some surprise that the ancient spirit was blushing. "I wasn't lying, you know. When I told you that nothing goes better together than cold and dark, I meant it. I can't imagine anything more fitting than the two of us... together. And that was my wish."  
  
Jack's eyebrows rose. "You waited until you were dying to ask me out? Kinda late, don't you think?"  
  
This time it was Pitch's turn to snort. "Jack, I couldn't muster the strength to leave this bed even if true immortality were waiting five steps away. I have mere moments left in this world, and no time for romance or courtship." His voice softened, and his golden eyes sought out Jack's. "I wish only to share... this, here, now. I want to have you for myself, while I still can. And so I ask you, Jack Frost... will you be mine for what little time is left me?"  
  
A vehement  _no_  rose to Jack's lips, but as much as he struggled to loose it, it refused to budge. Pitch's eyes were pleading with him, and somehow he couldn't find it in himself to deny the spirit in his one moment of honesty.  
  
"I'm not above begging, Jack," the gray man said with another sad smile. "I'd prefer to retain that last scrap of my dignity, but this is truly all I've wanted for quite some time now."  
  
Jack's apprehension needled at him, tiny claws seeming to rake across his skin, but he couldn't stem the flow of curiosity that bubbled up inside him.  
  
"I've... never done anything like that before," he said after a moment. "I don't know if I'd be any good."  
  
Pitch's smile was warm and gentle, utterly incongruous on a face made to sneer. "I'll show you how, Jack. You have nothing to be afraid of; I could never find you lacking. All I want is you, you remarkable boy." He reached out a beckoning hand, seemingly unabashed at the tremors that wracked it.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Jack crossed to the cot and sat down on its edge, then turned at the waist to look at Pitch.  
  
"So... what first?" he asked, cursing the squeak in his voice.  
  
A gray hand caressed his cheek, and he closed his eyes and groaned at the  _feeling_. It had been so long since he had felt a touch other than one of North's bone-crushing hugs or Bunnymund's amicable punches on the shoulder; the gentle but firm pressure of fingers gliding across his face left his heart unsure whether to start racing or stop beating entirely, electing instead to alternate between the two.  
  
"If it's all right with you," the elder spirit said, voice barely above a whisper, "I should like to have a kiss."  
  
As Jack crawled towards a position suited for the task, he pressed his body against Pitch's, eliciting a hiss of pain. The ice spirit pulled away, frightened and apologetic. "I'm so sorry! What did I do wrong?"  
  
Pitch blinked a few times to banish the pain before giving the boy a weak smile. "While your enthusiasm is refreshing, I'm afraid this body isn't very sturdy anymore. You'll have to avoid putting most of your weight on me."  
  
A blush rose to Jack's cheeks, and he nodded. Placing his hands on either side of Pitch's head and taking up position over him, he leaned down to close the distance between their lips.  
  
Their kiss was not warm and wet, expert tongues dueling for dominance; the awkward fumblings of the innocent boy confounded their efforts for some time before he got the hang of it. Still, there was an undercurrent of excitement, an electric chill that bounced between both of them, growing by the second. It was a first kiss, artless and earnest, and they savored it.  
  
When Jack pulled away, gasping, he stared wide-eyed at Pitch, wondering why he seemed to be getting farther away. Then Pitch's hands shot out and seized him by the hips, pulling him back down to the bed.  
  
"Ah, ah, we can't have you floating away too soon, Jack." The dark man's voice was filled with gentle teasing and just a hint of something a bit more delightfully wicked. "We've only just begun." His hands began to shake on Jack's hips, and he dropped them back down to the bed.   
  
"I'm not sure I can restrain you next time, though." His eyes turned wistful. "You'll have to keep yourself grounded from here on... and we may have to take things faster than I would have liked."  
  
Rising to a kneeling position, Jack nodded again. "What now?"  
  
That hint of something resembling shyness came over Pitch once again. "If I could... might I be able to see you? All of you?"  
  
Jack slid off the bed and crossed his arms, hands at his waist, and peeled away his ubiquitous sweatshirt, exposing more pale skin in that one fluid motion than he had in years. The garment hit the floor, and he slid his hands back down his torso, fumbling with his belt and peeling away his only other garment, leaving him naked, half-hard cock just beginning to leak precum. Nervous, he looked at Pitch.  
  
The man's eyes were wide, pupils dilated and mouth ever so slightly open. "Oh, Jack," he whispered, "You're  _perfect_."  
  
Naked and flushed pink from embarrassment and excitement and something more, Jack crawled back onto the bed, ass high in the air so as to keep his weight off of the ailing man. As he began kissing Pitch again, growing more and more confident with each moment, a gentle prodding at his buttocks made him gasp and turn. There, eyes sparkling with a mix of mirth and lust, stood the Nightmare that had brought him here. A strikingly long tongue slithered from its mouth, belying its otherwise horselike appearance.  
  
Jack stared with apprehension until Pitch gave a chuckle. "Just think of him as my little helper, Jack. He'll prepare you for what's to come... and if you give him a chance, I can guarantee you won't regret a single moment of it."  
  
Reassured by Pitch's confidence, Jack brought his hips up once more, welcoming whatever the perverted dream had in store for him.   
  
There was, however, no way he could have prepared himself for  _that_.  
  
The winter spirit groaned and whimpered and thrust his hips with wild abandon as the Nightmare's tongue probed around his hole, the sensation at once completely foreign and absolutely welcome.  
  
When it slipped inside, he barely bit back a scream that had nothing to do with pain.  
  
Eyes rolling back in his head and mouth agape, Jack barely registered Pitch's eyes studying his face with a hunger beyond any he had ever seen. The boy made occasional clumsy attempts to kiss his partner, but Pitch seemed largely unconcerned with the lack of attention being paid to his lips, enthralled as he was with Jack's expressions.  
  
The tongue inside Jack was growing larger somehow, its intrusion becoming more and more noticeable. It teetered just along the edge of unpleasantness, until it brushed up against a certain spot inside him and everything turned to electricity and heat. Suddenly its expansion became the most welcome thing in the world as it slid in and out, brushing over that magical spot again and again as it stretched him out. He lost track of time completely, caught up in the sensation, until suddenly it retreated and he was left with a needy space inside him.  
  
"Pitch," he whined, bouncing slightly on his hands and knees, begging for something he didn't fully understand. "I need..." The boy stopped, unsure how to voice his desires.  
  
"I know, my dear boy. I know." The sheet slid down the gray man's body, pulled away by the Nightmare, and Jack got his first look at Pitch's throbbing, dripping cock.  
  
"That's..." Jack gulped. "Pretty big. I don't know if I can..."  
  
Another kiss stifled his misgivings, and he found himself aching to be filled, fears diminishing with each expert movement of Pitch's tongue.  
  
"So," Jack said after breaking off the kiss and rising to his knees, "How do you want me? Are you going to get behind me, or..."  
  
Pitch's hacking, wheezing laughter brought Jack back to the harsh reality of the situation. "Oh, Jack, I think you have me confused with a man who's  _not_  about to die. Perhaps if you had come when I first made the wish..."   
  
Shame poured over Jack's head and down his body, turning his blood hot and cold in turns. His mouth began working to form an apology, but Pitch's eyes stilled him.  
  
"It's all right, Jack. You couldn't have known. Still, I'm afraid you'll have to be the one doing the work this time." A trembling hand reached up to clasp Jack's. "Don't worry. I'll do what I can to help you along and make it the experience you deserve."  
  
Jack gave a shaky nod and positioned himself over Pitch's member, reaching down to steady it as he lowered himself, hoping he was doing everything right.  
  
When he slipped and slammed down on Pitch's pelvis, the gray man's cry of agony was enough to bring a flood of tears to Jack's eyes and a stream of apologies to his lips.  
  
"It's all right, it's fine, it's okay," the older spirit said, the crack in his voice betraying the lie. "Just... please be gentle. Slow."  
  
Breathing deeply to steady himself, Jack grasped Pitch's cock and held it at his hole, wiggling it ever so slightly as he pressed downward as gently as he could manage.  
  
When the head popped in, they gasped in unison, icy blue eyes boring into sickly yellow ones. He could never have imagined that Pitch would feel so unnaturally  _hot_  inside him. A few moments of heavy breathing, and Jack was ready to begin pressing down a bit more, wincing as he was stretched. The Nightmare had left a slimy residue inside Jack's hole, and he was beyond grateful for it as it eased what would otherwise have been an excruciating passage. A few slides up and down, and Pitch's cock was fully sheathed inside the whimpering boy's ass.  
  
Jack tried to move, but any movement made him feel like he was being ripped apart. "It... hurts," he managed between gritted teeth.  
  
A skilled hand began stroking his flaccid member, and slowly it rose back to life, the sensation making him clench involuntarily around the intrusion in his hole. Little whimpers and moans began escaping from his mouth, and soon he found himself rocking up and down ever so slightly, reveling in the feeling of such... completeness.  
  
He made a grumbling sound when the touches grew lighter and lighter, and he looked down to see what was the matter, only to find Pitch's hand growing incorporeal even as he stroked Jack's cock.  
  
"I'm sorry, Jack," the older man said, brow furrowed in concentration. "It's nearly time. I'll stay with you as long as I can, but I won't be able to hold on much longer."  
  
A strangled sob tore from Jack's throat, hissing through clenched teeth as he tried unsuccessfully to banish the tears welling up in his eyes. The saltwater crystallized on his cheeks, falling in snowflakes only to melt once more on Pitch's chest.  
  
"Jack, please," Pitch said, begging with eyes and lips and everything he had. "Keep going. I want you to be happy. Please...  _for me_."  
  
Biting his lip in determination, Jack summoned up as much enchanted snow as he could in his hand, then slammed his palm into his face. The unnatural high hit him like a ton of bricks, and he bounced up and down on Pitch with unbridled excitement despite the tears pouring down his face and the anguish in his soul.  
  
As more and more of the dark Guardian faded away, Jack blasted himself with increasingly larger doses of magic, trying to ignore everything but the beauty of the moment, hoping to give Pitch some final satisfaction before time ran out. Soon only Pitch's head and cock remained solid, and the boy tugged furiously at his own dick in hopes that his orgasm would drive his lover over the edge.  
  
"Oh, Pitch," he gasped, "I'm gonna... I'm gonna..." His wordless cry echoed through the cavern as he clenched and spurted and screamed. He continued to ride Pitch's member, trying to bring him the same satisfaction, until he felt it wane and disappear from inside him, leaving him bereft.  
  
"No!" Jack screamed, cupping the gray man's cheek even as it began to flicker out of existence.  
  
"It's all right, Jack," Pitch said, face serene in spite of the tears shining in his eyes. "You gave me everything I wanted, everything I wished for and dreamt."  
  
All Jack could do was stroke Pitch's face. "Don't go. Please don't go."  
  
"Goodbye, Jack Frost. Remember me... remember  _us_."  
  
In one last act of desperation, Jack raced to press his lips to Pitch's one last time...  
  
And burst into tears as his face met only the bed.


End file.
